


30 OTP prompts

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:22:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5548931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	1. Holding Hands

I stared at the tiny hand that clutched mine so tightly. 

_How did I get this?_

I had never cared, well, realized how lonely I was until I met John. I always thought that if I closed myself off from the world and focused on what matters; intellect, that that feeling would go away. That I wouldn't need drugs or _Mycroft_. 

When John came into my life the darkness that filled me at night was shifted, I started coming back to reality. I found that flesh wounds hurt me more than I thought they had. John had seen that, had seen the scars and the vulnerability that I so desperately pushed away, and even through that he stayed. Even through the breakdowns and fights he stayed, and because of that, because of the way John Watson loved me, I asked him to be mine forever. And because of the way John Watson loved me, he said yes. 

I had been shocked, scared even, that someone could love me the way he did, but he had pulled me close, kissed me through it. John Watson showed me that love isn't taught, it's brought out. John Watson showed me that I, a high-functioning sociopath, could love him just as much as he loved me. And I _loved_ him. 

The hand adjusted and held tightly to my thumb. I adjusted my eyes to the darkness and smiled at the small child sleeping between me and John. His dark curls popping out from the duvet pulled up to his nose. 

He had come running to our room in the middle of the night, crying. He had a nightmare. John and I understood. We'd had our fair share of nightmares, real and fiction, over the years. we had shared a knowing look and pulled him into the bed, soothing his crying and lulling him to sleep. He now slept peacefully holding my hand and resting his head against John's chest. 

John had held my hand for a few minutes after Hamish came in, knowing the tears that prickled at the back of my eyes even before I knew they were there. He always knew. He had known from the moment he first heard me crying in my bedroom. 

I had always been quiet if I needed to let out some steam but...Tonight wasn't the night for that. John was getting married in the morning and I was going to be all alone again. Just the thought had made my stomach turn. I had excused myself quietly from the partly Scotland Yard was holding for John. The smiling faces, the laughing, storytelling of our adventures. It had all been too much so I had excused myself and walked home. I had been in my room quite some time when I heard my door creak open, John Watson stood before me, eyes soft and so caring. One look and I could tell he wanted to understand, wanted to be there for me. 

He'll never love you. 

I had myself convinced, and so it was shocking when John walked over to me and pulled me into standing. ( somewhat awkwardly since his height was much less of mine ) He had stared up at me, so gentle, so caring, so...John. I heard the humming more than saw him start, since the tears blurred my vision, and he started dancing with me. 

That was the night John Watson broke my heart by trying to put it back together. He cared for me, he held me, he tucked me into bed, but he hadn't stayed. There was no sign that he would have had I told him why I was crying, though part of me knew he knew. He had kept me together by breaking me, by reminding me that he was getting married tomorrow and that he loved Mary. He loved Mary not me. 

That night was the first night since John Watson moved in that I'd had a nightmare and had no one to tell. No John. I had resolved to not sleeping and dressed in the wee hours of the morning. 

John and I had many nightmares since Mary, but we were always there to hold each other through it. 

And so now I stared at my son, my beautiful son with John's eyes that held my thumb, that let me hold his hand through his fears, that trusted me more than I was capable of understanding, and I relaxed against my pillow, letting the dreams flood my mind, too.


	2. Cuddling

Sherlock waited in his flat, not knowing if John would even come back. He had paced, he had read, he had even watched the bloody telly, but it seemed John wasn't coming back. Sherlock saw his violin, the tempting wood and strings calling my name. I hadn't played since the fall. He'd had to wait until it simmered down a bit before he could come back, if only just to tell John that he's okay.

Sherlock picked up the smooth wood in his large hands, shaking hands, as he retreated into his mind palace, as the memories flooded in. He stood at the window and his fingers started strumming the familiar notes. 

_Sherlock working in the lab at Bart's when Mike walked in, leading the army Doctor behind him. Sherlock's eyes flickering over him and trying to play it cool. John's hands firm and smooth, holding out his phone. John's eyes deep and regretful, holding the world on his shoulders._

Sherlock's eyes watered at the memory. Maybe if he had warned John off...Maybe if he had told John earlier then he wouldn't be in this position.

_I love you, John. I always have._

The words had spilled out before he could think it through, the dread that filled his stomach had almost been too much to bear until John had taken Sherlock's hands and kissed them. Sherlock could feel it now. He could feel John's warm lips against his hands as he played, the only thing convincing him to keep playing, to keep waiting, John would be back.

_I love you, Sherlock. I always will_

Sherlock stood angrily, unable to keep himself still. He paced the sitting room, tears streaming down his face. 

He could feel John's body against his small but sturdy body sleeping against his. He could hear John's whispered promises against his skin. He could feel the promises sinking into his skin, pulling at his heart. He glared at John's chair, feeling himself brimming with more emotion than he's felt in years.

_Just let me explain, John. I told you I'd come back. Just trust me_

Sherlock walked to his bedroom and started packing, leaving the violin in his chair. He sat on his bed and let the memories flood in. The first time he and John shared a bed. Sherlock had started crying when John had started kissing his neck. John had held him and reminded him how much he loved him. Sherlock had tried to hide his face, embarrassed about his crying, but John had held him in his strong arms, his unjudging eyes reassuring Sherlock of his gentleness. They had given up on making love that night and decided to cuddle. John held Sherlock the tears, through the uncertainty. 

_You always held me. Please be here when I get back._

And with that, Sherlock put his disguise back on and walked out of the flat...unrecognizable to John as he walked into 221b.


	3. Watching a movie

I watched as Sherlock sat on the edge of the couch, not even noticing the popcorn caught in his black curls. The new Star Wars movie was coming out and I had brought out all of my Star Wars movies. We were going to have a marathon of the past movies and then go see the new one. I hadn't imagined Sherlock would be interested in Star Wars, he usually wasn't interested in the movies I was, "too predictable" he would say. 

James Bond had been an absolute mistake. I had forced him to watch the movies, which he had countered me with a lecture later about feminism and how if they wanted a bigger fan base they should name it Jaime Bond and have a female hero for once. It was _dreadful_. That was before Hamish. Since Hamish was born Sherlock has been more welcoming to different shows. Hamish's current favorite show was the history channel, which he mostly watched astronomy shows on. 

Hamish's favorite show at the moment was Doctor Who. Sherlock was appalled at first and then he started watching it and fell in love with David Tennant and Billie Piper. 

Hamish was curled up on the other side of the couch watching the movie not nearly as entranced as Sherlock was. 

_Luke, I am your father._

"I knew it! I knew it all along!!" Sherlock was up yelling at the telly as Darth Vador and Luke Skywalker faced off in _Return of the Jedi_

"Of course you did, Daddy." Hamish's voice was snarky and condescending. 

Sherlock looked over at the child sitting on his end of the couch, currently in his fluffy microscope pyjamas, and sneered. I stood quickly and got Sherlock's elbow. 

"Clearly this has been an exciting night for us all." I said as I paused the movie and sent Hamish up to his room, turning to stare at the now sulking Sherlock. I walked over and ran my hands under his shirt. "How much you want to bet that I can get your hair into Princess Leia buns?" 

Sherlock stared at me in disbelief and slowly grinned. "I didn't know you were into that sort of thing, Mr. Solo..." He rand his hand down to the small of my back.

"I'm always a slut for pilots." I grinned and giggled as I led him to the bedroom.


	4. Date Night

I walked out of the bedroom wearing a plaid shirt and blazer. Grandmum had Hamish for the weekend and me and Sherlock had decided that was perfect for date night. I stopped in his tracks in the kitchen when I saw my boyfriend in the sitting room, fiddling with his cuff. His black curls were brushed and parted, but not so they seemed to perfect. They were that messy perfection that I loved about his hair. His alabaster skin stood out against the black of the tuxedo that fit his form so well. I _loved_ the way Sherlock wore tuxedos. i loved how Sherlock's bum became even more defined in the tight fitting pants. I was blushing by the time I stood in front of my date.

"Need me to do that for you?" I pointed at his cuffs, the only things not perfect about him, but even in a way, his inability to do his own cuffs was perfect. Sometimes it overwhelmed me, Sherlock's perfectness. 

Sherlock turned bright red and grinned when he noticed my blushing. "Of course." 

He held out both his arms as I did the cuffs. My hands shook, from the excitement of going out with Sherlock again or how sexy Sherlock looked, I could not tell. I felt under-dressed next to Sherlock and was tempted to go change again.

"Ready?" Sherlock pulled his wrists back and adjusted the sleeves as he looked out the window. "Mycroft's car is here and he doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Mycroft? Why is Mycroft here?"

Sherlock sighed so audibly that it felt like a backhanded slap to me, so I instantly got defensive. "I told you last night, John. Mycroft is holding a ball and he expects us to come." He looked at me. It was as if he expected me to know everything like he did. 

"When did you tell me that?"

"It was somewhere between, 'That's it, Sherlock' ,and 'More'. " He smirked and pulled on his coat with such theatrics that I almost had to go back in time and beat myself up for not realizing how gay this man really was.

"Drama Queen." I muttered as I pulled on my coat and followed Sherlock out to Mycroft's car.

In all honesty, I had hoped tonight would be more of an intimate night but it seems Sherlock doesn't quite understand what "Date night" means. I texted Angelo, while listening to Sherlock and Mycroft bicker, and cancelled our dinner reservations. He had been disappointed but wished me luck. _Good Luck? Like I'll be lucky tonight._

Mycroft led us inside the giant ballroom and walked off to his "important meetings". Sherlock had rolled his eyes at that. I looked up at Sherlock waiting to see if he was going to do anything but apparently he wasn't interested in me so I let myself get swept up into a dance. She had medium length red hair and brown eyes. 

_I would have dated her before Sherlock._

Where was Sherlock? I took a quick look around the room before deciding that he must have gone off to explore.

Eventually one drink led to another, and another, and I found my dancing partners were melting together. A blonde one with way too much cleavage now. 

"John." 

I felt a large hand on my hip as the familiar baritone voice pulled me away from my dance partner. 

"John, look at me." 

I guided my eyes to the tall figure standing in front of me. 

"You're drunk. Of course you're bloody drunk."

"You left me by myself."

"I solved a case. I would have liked to have had your help but I didn't want to interrupt you while you danced with _women_."

"At least they understand what a date night is!" 

I quickly felt the alcohol clearing away as I yelled at him. We were outside our room at this point and Sherlock paused while unlocking the door. 

"I do know what a date night is, John. I think you'll find that I set up the bedroom perfectly for us, but since you're drunk off your arse we won't be using anything tonight except the sheets." He slammed the door open , Yes, he _slammed_ it _Open_. He quickly picked me up and carried me in, obviously embarrassed by the scene I was causing. 

"You didn't seem to want to spend any time with me. At all." I pushed out of his arms and leaned against the wall, My arms crossed as my only defense.

"John.." His voice was warning, a growl. 

"Why didn't you-" 

I was cut off by his lips against mine. It was a bruising kiss, but he was best when he is like this, well, he's a best topper when he's angry. It's always rough and torturously slow. He picked me up and carried me to bed, showing me what he had been setting up for.

I woke up the next morning, may hair a mess and practically stuck to Sherlock from our sweat and cum. I relaxed into his grip, oddly happy with the way things turned out last night. I felt Sherlock's arm tighten around me.

"Not yet, John. Just a couple more hours."

I nodded and snuggled into him as we both went back to sleep.


	5. Kissing

Sherlock was inexperienced. John found that out when he first kissed Sherlock. Watching Sherlock kiss women had been painful, yet somehow the thought that he was bad at it made him feel better. John had kissed Sherlock after Mary's death, when Sherlock had admitted his love for the doctor. John still smiled at the thought. 

John had been the one to kiss Sherlock. Sherlock was standing in the kitchen, goggles and gloves on, staring at John, recovering from admitting that he loved John. John walked over, taking Sherlock's hands in his, almost kissing his hands until he remembered the chemicals Sherlock had been working on, so he pulled Sherlock down and kissed him. Which also hadn't worked, not only because Sherlock burst into words as soon as their lips met, but also the fact that he was still wearing goggles, causing John to bump his nose and forehead against them. They had broken into maniacal giggles as soon as they realized what had just happened.

John remembered that as he watched his boyfriend give Lestrade the last conclusions of the case, grinning all the while. This had been a tough one. It had John and Sherlock running all sorts of places. 

Sherlock walked over to John, giggling, he was talking but all John could focus on was his lips. Those beautiful cupid's bow lips as he spoke.

"John?"

John snapped back to reality and stared up at Sherlock. His cheeks were flushed and his pupils dilated. "Y-Yes?"

"Did you hear me? I asked if you wanted dinner."

"I just want you."

Sherlock's face bloomed a bright red as he grinned. "Me? Where?"

"Here."

"John, we can't make-out like teenagers at a crime scene."

"Why not?"

"Because my brother's here." He smirked and led John off.


	6. Apologies

I can't do this. I just...Never finish things. Sorry. Hope you liked what i had. It was all the same anyways. If you liked this then you should go read _StarryEyedWatson's_ Cyborg AU. She's an amazing writer and will never leave you hanging like I did.


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